


The L-word

by sakasamasa



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: M/M, this is so embarrassing, warning: rhack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 16:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10167500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakasamasa/pseuds/sakasamasa
Summary: Terribad ooc emotional Rhack fluff about Jack's scar.(Remember kids, Rhack is bad and you should feel bad./s)





	

Jack opened his eyes to a pitch black ceiling and a growing itchy sensation on the skin of his face. The mild pain pulled him from an unfocused, drowsy haze into an unpleasant, dopey state of wakefulness, much like waking up after surgery. He halfheartedly expected to smell the distinct odor of chemicals and antiseptics, but was met with the softer scent of his own room. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he became more aware of his surroundings. A cushy mattress, plushy bedsheets, a picturesque view of space behind the bedroom window, and Rhys quite literally huddled up at his side, breathing evenly. The itch on his face made his skin feel raw and irritated, a titillating reminder of the incident that marked the turning point of his life and the start of his daunting crusade, leaving in its wake an unsightly scar that would never really heal. He remembered the crystalline ground he tread on, the sky a multicolored nebula. Pillars of a luminescent crystal towered above him, humming with energy. He remembered the treasure of the Vault, the power to change worlds within his grasp. The Eridian artifact just floated before him, beckoning him to take it. He reached out, fingers shaking in breathless anticipation. Finally. The countless sacrifices he'd made and the innumerable life threatening risks he'd taken bore down on him, and now it would all be worth it. Now he could claim his well deserved reward. He would be champion, the victor, the _hero_.

Suddenly the pain flared, and it _burned_. It seared its way into his nerves, the smell of seared flesh filling his nostrils. He cursed through gritted teeth, bringing a hand to his temple, barely remembering to not touch it. The pain coursed through his veins in waves of painful heat, throbbing in tandem with his racing heart. After what seemed like an eternity, the pain started ebbing away slowly. Soon enough it was gone, leaving only a slight tingling sensation in the scar tissue. The nauseating smell and the blistering heat disappeared into the darkness. He was no longer in the Vault of the Sentinel, but back in the disquieting silence of his bedroom, with his hand hovering mere inches away from the scar. His erratic heartbeat slowed, and with each beat the pain seemed to fade. A tired sigh was forced from his throat, the last vestiges of panic leaving his body and mind, replaced by a torpid exhaustion.

"...Jack?"

Shit. He looked to a bleary eyed Rhys, whose brows were furrowed in confusion. Had he been watching him this whole time? Jack could only guess.

"It's nothing," he muttered, "Go back to sleep."

Rhys hummed in response, seeming perfectly content with Jack's advice. He nestled himself beside him, close enough that Jack could feel his steady breaths ghosting over his neck and the tickling of his tousled hair at his cheek.

"It's the scar, isn't it?"

Jack didn't answer, instead turning his head to look out the window into the vast, brilliant expanse of space that stretched out into infinity before his eyes. Millions of brightly shining stars littered the empty void, flaunting their marvelous glory in unison.

"Does it hurt?"

Jack once again held his tongue. He never liked admitting to weakness. Weaknesses were made to be exploited. If he'd learned anything being alive this long, it was that showing even the slightest bit of frailty or mercy would make him a target. It would make him easy prey to be just as easily torn apart and devoured, whether it be done by the battering bullets of Vault Hunters, the corporate greed of his rival companies or the back hand of his own grandmother.

Rhys stirred, sitting up slightly to face Jack. His eyes were uncharacteristically hard, illuminated by the soft starlight that graced his pale face. The tattoo at his neck stood in vivid contrast against his skin, the circular pattern an even deeper shade of black in the dark. Jack turned away, an uncomfortable feeling blooming in his chest at the thought of Rhys seeing the scar up close.

He'd adamantly refused to take off the mask in Rhys' presence at first, even in the comfort of his own living space. Eventually, it became too cumbersome. Wearing the mask for too long would probably be akin to Rhys not detaching his cybernetic arm for days on end. When it started to hurt badly, Jack finally gave in, resolutely choosing shame over the stinging pain. He hadn't missed how Rhys' eyes widened, how his lips had parted slightly only to shut abruptly, though he did not say anything of it, and neither did Rhys. The subject was never touched on again, which Jack was thankful for, but it also left him without a sense of closure that gnawed at his conscious whenever it surfaced. Now closure was the least of his worries; the only thing Jack wanted was for Rhys to _stop looking_. Yet Rhys didn't relent, instead gripping his chin firmly to face him once more.

"Kitten- Rhys, don't-," Jack protested, instinctively backing up.

When Rhys showed no sign of slackening his hold, anxious frustration started to simmer in the back of Jack's mind. Two eerily heterochromatic eyes scrutinized every inch of his marred face, void of any reaction or emotion. Just before he moved to forcibly release himself from his hold did Rhys' eyes shift. Slowly, a fond smile curled his lips upward, and he leaned forward, cautiously planting a gentle kiss onto Jack's lips. Pulling back, he smiled in a way that swiftly snuffed out all the anxiety and anger in Jack's mind.

"Hey," he said, still with that adoring, goofy grin on his face, "even without the mask, I think you're still handsome."

Jack laughed, feeling at ease in a way he hadn't in a long time.

"You're a fucking sap, Rhys. Y'know that?"

Rhys buried his head into the crook of his neck, wrapping his slender arm around Jack's chest.

"I love you."

Though his voice was muffled, Rhys' words rang out clearly in the dark and seemed to echo as Jack replayed them in his mind over and over. He contemplated acting on a certain impulse that budded in his mind, and ultimately decided that, just maybe, showing a little weakness was okay. He sighed.

"I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this late at night when I was feeling sad, and worked on it late at night when I felt sad, so it might've been a bit disjointed, sorry. I'm still very embarrassed about this fic,,, I am a disgusting hopeless romantic,, I'll make sure the next Rhack fic's more in character and less cheesy, if I ever plan on writing more.


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